


DVD Extras for Millennium Spork

by lucidscreamer



Series: The Spork 'Verse [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Bad Fic, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, DVD Extras, Filk, Gen, Humor, Parody, Song Parody, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: A collection of extras that don't fit into the main story, but expand upon it in some way.1. Yugi's Song from "The Little MerMAN" Arc of Millennium Spork. Song parody (filk).2. "TheOregonEgyptian Trail" by Mary Sue Pseudonymia (complete text) Bad-fic parody.3. "Sue-rassic Park" (filk)4. Author commentary for "The Millennium Spork". (Will post once fic is completed.)





	1. Chapter 1

Yugi's Song from "The Little Merma--N" Arc of _Millennium Spork_

Under the damn sea  
Under the damn sea  
It ain't fucking better  
Down where it's wetter  
Take it from me!

Do you see this fucking tail?  
Well, it's really making me wail!  
Now I'm all winces 'cause  
I'm not a princess  
Under the sea!

  
[additional verse by akarii, originally a comment on LJ:]  
Being main chara takes lots of plucks.  
It's not all that cracked-up, here's the crux:  
Got a tail full of scales;  
it's not even a male's!  
Being me really currently sucks.


	2. Love on the (oregon) Egyptian Trail by Mary Sue Pseudonymia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full text of the bad-fic quoted in chapter 19 of "The Millennium Spork".

　

Love on the ~~Oregon~~ Egyptian Trail

By Mary Sue Pseudonymia

　

In the ancient and mysterious land of the pyramids, a long time ago -- around just after noon on a Thursday afternoon, (the Narrator is being blackmailed by the Department of Redundancy Department, okay?) -- there lived a beautiful young girl.

Well, we say "young". Young- _ish_. Now that we come to look at it, "young girl" seems a bit of a given, even if we do owe the DoRD (those bastards). The "young" is sort of built right into "girl," isn't it? Sure, you can say " _old_ girl" when what you really mean is "bloody minded old crone who'll clock me 'round the ear-hole if I call her something more fitting, like _dirt's grandmother,_ but what does that get you but a whack in the shin with a cane for calling her a girl instead of a woman, so you really can't win with that one. Just skip the whole mess, is our advice.

...Where were we?

Oh, right. We were introducing our lovely heroiness, who is a joy and delight to all who have the honor to bask in her glorious company, or so she assures us.

Once upon a Thursday afternoon there lived a, well, not a girl, _per se_ , but definitely a person of the girl-ish persuasion. Not really a woman yet, but not ancient is what we're trying to convey. It goes without saying that she was beautiful and kind and wonderful, though we're going to say it anyway, since this is just that kind of narrative and she is definitely that kind of character.

Excuse us for just a moment while we pull out _Ye Olde Thesaurus_. This is going to take more adjectives than we normally keep on hand. Ah, here we are. (Deep breaths, everyone! And off we go...)

She was the fairest in all the land, most of the surrounding water, and a large-ish portion of the local sky. Her hair was lustrous and long, and never tangled despite her being born in a time well before the invention of leave-in conditioners. Her luscious, totally naturally-highlighted-in-rainbow-colors locks fell in waves (or possibly ringlets, or maybe it was straight), down her slender back which, like everything else about her, was exquisite and required by law to be accompanied by at least one adjective with every mention.

Her alabaster-esque-- (seriously? You seriously want us to describe your complexion as "alabaster-esque"? Yes, we do have a problem with that, thanks for asking. ...What? Fine, have it your way.)

Her alabaster-esque face was heart-shaped (or, more precisely, it wasn't, since actual hearts look nothing like what the terminally poetic deem "heart-shaped", and was, in fact rather face-shaped -- Look, we let you have "alabaster-esque," didn't we?), and contained all the bits generally considered _de riguere_ for faces. Her eyes were large and sparkled with (what she preferred to believe was) intelligence, and were twenty-six different colors all at the same time depending on her mood. For the sake of narrative expedience, we'll call them "kaleidoscope," because the contract we had to sign in order to chronicle her story does not allow us to call them "seriously effed up."

Of course, her wardrobe had to be equally magnificent so as not to detract from her beauty, so she always wore the absolute best _couture_ clothing, despite the fact that she was a poor, simple lass living in an ancient Egyptian oasis. She was inordinately fond of purple: she had purple shoes, purple hats, purple leggings, purple t-shirts, purple blue-jeans, and on alternate Tuesdays, purple prom gowns. Everything was adorned with glitter, rhinestones, puffy paint (purple), sequins (also purple), and enough shiny crap to entice an entire murder of crows.

Her favorite outfit was a short purple skirt trimmed in red lace over tight black leggins with a purple shirt donned by a golden dragon ("donned"? We're seriously supposed to... Wait. Are you saying the shirt is being worn by the dragon? ...Because _grammar_ , that's why! Also, this outfit is hideous, just sayin'.) and a whole bunch of other crap that the Narrator can't be bothered to add in because we're not actually getting paid for this and it is _painful_. Painful beyond the telling of it! Who cares what the chit is wearing?!

Ahem. Where were we? Right.

This paragon of beauty, grace, style, and ineffable thingness also possessed the eighth Millennium Item, the Millennium Edition of the _Romance Writer's Phrase Book_ , from which she clearly got most of her more lurid description ideas. (What? Oh, fine.) She actually possessed the Millennium Rose -- which looked ridiculous with that eye taped to the stem. (Seriously, how is that even supposed to work? Do you put any thought into this or are you just pulling random words out of a hat? ...Hey, watch where you're-- Ow! Now, look here, you trumped up little--!)

WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.

.

.

.

 _The Narrator having been reminded that we are under contract, we now return you to your regularly scheduled "story" (if you want to call it that), already in progress_...

.

.

.

Wherever our precious heroiness went, flowers burst into song, birds bloomed, and, despite the fact that she lived in a desert oasis, cute creatures of the "small, furry, and woodland" variety routinely frolicked around her delicate, tiny, and improbably shoed feet. (Which should be a tripping hazard, but of course our darling heroine is graceful and light on her feet, and would never do anything so plebian as stumbling over her own Manolo Blahniks-- unless she was near a handsome love-interest who was available to catch her in his strong, pharaonic embrace on those rare occasions when she chose to get her adora-klutz on.)

But, of course, even one as fair and dainty as Mary Sue (for such was her euphonious name) was not without her tragic flaws. Why, just look at those odd divots that marred her perfect, porcelain, rose-kissed cheeks whenever she smiled! (The first time she had noticed this horrible disfigurement while admiring herself in the mirror, she had rushed at once to the doctor. To her everlasting sorrow, the doctor had informed her there was no cure for "the dimples.")

One day, tired of the adoration of her many fans and of the all-singing/all-dancing flora and fauna that followed her on her daily strolls around the oasis so that everyone who lived there could bask in her reflected glory, she decided to travel up-river to the local royal palace, where she could meet and fall in love with the Pharaoh of Egypt. As you do.

So, she set out across the desert. Why she didn't do as everyone else in Egypt did and travel by boat on the Great River, which was much less likely to kill you of dehydration and sunstroke (though much more likely to kill you of drowning, or possibly hippo), we shall never know, for she did not deign to reveal her wisdom to her humble chronicler.

And so, alone -- except for her hairdresser, manicurist, aesthetician, wardrobe mistress, life-style coach, Pilates instructor, personal chef, and a small honey badger named Emilio* -- she braved the harsh sands and unrelenting sun (which was hell on her perfect skin and lustrous hair; thank goodness she had remembered to bring with her the sacred Oil of the Goddess O'Lay and the ritual Essence of the Herbs).

Without cease, for days on end, (and, okay, a few day's ends at the Day's Inn), she toiled tirelessly, mile after mile as she walked.

Well, the hairdresser, manicurist, aesthetician, wardrobe mistress, life-style coach, Pilates instructor, and personal chef walked. Mary Sue rode in an air-conditioned sedan chair. But! The satellite radio would only pick up one all-talk station and she forgot to charge her phone before leaving the oasis, and the phone she borrowed from Emilio (whom she had graciously allowed to ride in the sedan chair with her), only got one bar of service), and the Stardebens was totally out of her favorite low-fat, half-soy, double shot, date-caramel, frozen latte so it was still a hardship! Show a little compassion, why dontcha? Besides, have you ever tried to walk across shifting desert sand in high heels? Yeah, we didn't think so.

Despite her many trials and tribulations, Lordess Mary Sue (oh, did we forget to mention that she was secretly of noble birth even though she was raised as a lowly commoner in a back-end of nowhere oasis? Yeah, just pretend you saw that, like, 7 or 8 paragraphs ago, 'kay?) bravely forged onward on her long and perilous journey across the red lands.

She barely took time every day to get a mani-pedi and update her Instagram, that is how dedicated and determined she was to reach the royal palace and find her true love! She was being very considerate by not making him suffer without her any longer than he had to, because she was just nice like that. Is it any wonder that everyone loved her so much? Of course, that was another of her tragic flaws: she was simply too likable! It was a burden, as you can imagine, to have so many friends and followers. Just keeping up with her social media was practically a full-time job.

Eventually, after much hardship and absolutely no frozen lattes, our intrepid heroess arrived at the pharaoh's palace. It was a large, split-level ranch palace with a two car garage and an Olympic-sized swimming pool with a dedicated pool boy whose sole job it was to shoo the stray crocodiles out of the shallow end before they could puncture the inflatable floats (or eat the swimmers, but that was more of an incidental bonus).

Not having much else to do, since it's not like he was actually running an empire or anything, Pharaoh Atem was lounging on the front porch swing listening to The Alan Parsons Project** on his Walkman (he was an ancient Pharaoh, after all, and it was a bit difficult to get Amazon*** to deliver to Whenthehellever B.C.E., so his technology wasn't exactly cutting edge, is what we're saying).

Spotting Mary Sue astride her magnificent albino Arabian stallion--

(What do you mean, she was in a sedan chair before? Do you really expect us to keep up with what the girl is doing every minute of her-- Well, yes, the Narrator of a story generally does have a certain responsibility to continuity, but in our defense, you do remember what we have to work with here, right? Right. As we were saying...)

\--and setting aside his music (dug up by his scholarly priests from a mysterious grotto in the little known Valley of the Sehv-un-Tees, the ancient "kas-set" was filled with strange curiosities from the distant past that the priests called "gih-tar" and "synth-uh-sigh-zor"), Pharaoh Atem leaped to his feet and greeted her with a huge, tooth-whitening-strips-commercial smile, for she had interrupted his crushing _ennui_ and thus her shining presence had filled him with great joy.

"Oh, Mary Sue! I am filled with great joy," he cried. "Thanks to your timely yet unsolicited arrival, I am no longer bored by my total lack of anything useful to do. Oh, yeah, and I have fallen in love with your stunning beauty at first sight. Let us marry at once and throw a huge party so the entire kingdom can boogie down while digging your scene as their new dancing queen."****

"Whatever," she said, since it was nothing more than what she deserved for being her, and allowed herself to be showered with gold and adoration and floral garlands and Stardebens gift cards and a golden scepter of office that was half-spoon and half-fork. As you do.

And she lived happily ever after, though she was probably the only one.

Well, except for Emilio, who eventually wandered off into a completely different fandom, landed a bit part in a popular fanfic series, and has been living comfortably off the kudos ever since.

　

The End

　

Footnotes:

1\. * Packing everything for such a large party of travelers to take with them on their trek was a bit of a production, so it's not surprising that, in all the confusion, someone packed a badger instead of a blender. The flunky in question was soundly disciplined, though less so than the one who substituted a raven for Mary Sue's writing desk. Have you ever tried to compose fanfic on the back of a disgruntled corvid? We don't recommend it.

2\. ** Specifically, Pharaoh Atem was listening to the album _Pyramid_ \-- though he also appreciated the Eye of Horus on the album cover of _Eye in the Sky_.

3\. *** Besides, that's the wrong river.

4\. **** Before switching to The Alan Parsons Project, Atem had been listening to ABBA.

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was physically painful trying to write Mary Sue descriptions. It's still not awful enough, to be honest, but it's the ~~best~~ worst I could manage.


	3. Sue-rassic Park  (Filk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue-rassic Park is frightening in the dark,  
> All the Mary Sues are running wild!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be sung to the tune of "Jurassic Park" by Weird Al Yankovic,( which is parody of "MacArthur Park", so this is a parody of a parody).

Sue-rassic Park

 

I recall the time I found Yu-Gi-Oh on Eff-Eff-dot-net  
And before long I was reading all the fic.  
Now I find surprise Sues popping up all over the place --  
Well, believe me too many Sues'll make you sick.

  
Sue-rassic Park is frightening in the dark  
All the Mary Sues are running wild!  
Some of these plots are really thin --  
I admit it leaves me weary,  
But it proves my bad-fic theory,  
And I'm never trawling through the Pit again!  
(Oooooh, nooooo!)

  
I cannot approve of this distraction,  
'Cause Sues that warp the story  
Always makes me kind of mad.  
A huge influx of bad-fic ate our archive --  
Well, I suppose that proves they really are all bad.

  
Sue-rassic Park is frightening in the dark  
All the Mary Sues are running wild!  
So many fics to melt my brain --  
They turn the characters stupid  
In the service of their Cupid,  
So I gotta Spork what caused the pain!  
(Oooooh, nooooo!)

  
(SCREAMS AND ROARS over the music)

  
Sue-rassic Park is frightening in the dark,  
All the Mary Sues are running wild!  
What a crummy fic read this has been  
Well, this sure ain't no great story  
But they do know how to bore me  
And I'm never reading fic by them again!  
(Ooooh nooo! Whooooah noooo!)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Found this song parody in a journal entry from 2010 and thought I'd post it here for completeness.


End file.
